Sign In

Remember Me

Well water…

The only thing left of the farm I grew up on is the well. It is still covered by the piece of cast iron that covered it when I was a kid although the long handled red pump has been replace by an electric one. I think about it every once in a while. There was something wonderful about moving the pump handle up and down until cool clear water came running from the spout. There was an old dented tin cup that hung from a wire hook and you could take a long drink of that refreshing water on those hot summer days as a respite from the humidity.

The farm was designated a One Hundred Year Farm because it had been owned by the same family for over one hundred years. The barn was built without a single nail. It was constructed with wooden pegs and notched beams. In the 1950’s when I played in it, it was sagging with age and decay. It’s gone now. So is the chicken coop. The machine shed. The single car garage that held the ‘51 Ford coupe Dad drove us to Phoenix in. The tall concrete block, steel banded silo. And, of course, the house. All gone. The farm is now a field where giant combines harvest the grains you eat.

But the well remains. There is still icy cold, wonderfully refreshing water available. When all else dies and disappears, life giving water remains.

I love that…

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>

*

Skip to toolbar